


Off the Clock

by MykEsprit



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Costume Party, F/M, Halloween, Humor, Some coarse language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 07:08:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16445171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MykEsprit/pseuds/MykEsprit
Summary: The Avengers attend an intergalactic Halloween costume party, and everyone's having fun except for Tony Stark.





	Off the Clock

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DarkAngelOfSorrowReturns](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkAngelOfSorrowReturns/gifts).



> Disclaimer: Harry Potter and the Marvel Universe are not mine.
> 
> This fic was written for DarkAngelOfSorrowReturns; thanks for a great prompt! And thank you once again to the awesome mods of Marvelously Magical Fanfiction for hosting this exchange!

Iron Man always made an entrance—it was his _modus operandi_. Rocket boosters boomed and roared, heralding his arrival. The suit gleamed from frantic disco balls twirling under the high-domed ceiling.

A crowd swarmed when he landed. Their enthralled murmurs rumbled over the music. A shiny, red hand waved to the adoring masses, and a deafening cheer erupted. Everyone at the party was excited that Iron Man had arrived.

Everyone, that is…except for Tony Stark.

With an annoyed _tut_ , Tony elbowed through the mass of bodies. The suit faced him as he approached, its head tilted, conveying smug superiority and a hint of mischief. And since Tony himself was not in the suit, there was only one other man who could pull off that power pose.

“Loki.” Tony tugged on his crisp, white sleeves; his diamond cuff links winked in the light as they peeked above the sleeves of his formal jacket. “When I said, ‘come in a nice suit,’ I meant in one of your own.”

 The golden faceplate whooshed up, revealing the God of Mischief’s amused smirk. “Ah, but this _is_ a costume party,” he said. “I wanted to dress up as a narcissist with daddy issues, but Thor already decided to come as himself.” He nudged toward the entrance, where the God of Thunder was signing autographs. Loki rolled his eyes. “You were my second choice.”

Tony folded his arms—mockery or no, the knowledge of being second at something always stung. “Don’t scuff it. I just got the damn thing waxed.” He turned to leave but paused when he remembered exactly who he was talking to. “And for fuck’s sake, don’t pick a fight with anyone,” he warned. “No blasters. No lasers. You’re not covered under my insurance.”

He sauntered away, leaving Loki to his admirers, who only squealed with glee when they saw who was behind the mask. Loki pandered to the crowd, leaping to the air to perform acrobatics.

Tony raked his fingers through his hair, suppressing the urge to tug at the roots in exasperation. Although they were technically off the clock tonight, an intergalactic, interdimensional Halloween costume party hosted by the Grandmaster was _not_ the place to let one’s guard down. He trusted the cosmic being about as far as he could throw. Considering the current planet he was on had about ten percent more gravity than Earth…well, Tony kept his eyes and ears peeled for trouble.

He had warned his fellow Avengers to do the same. As usual, they didn’t listen.

Vision and Wanda made out on the dance floor, acting like a couple of horny teens on prom night. Tony was about to stop them when he remembered that both—in one way or another—never got to experience crazy teenage years. He let them be, deciding to intervene only if either lost any strategic articles of clothing in public.

Natasha sat at the bar downing a neon green drink. Although people were packed in that area, her general demeanor screamed, ‘ _Stay the hell away!_ ’ and the crowd was more than willing to give her space. A three-foot buffer existed on all sides, and a stray high heel or pinky finger earned the intruder a withering glare from the professional assassin.

Tony searched the crowd, looking for the reason for Natasha’s bad mood. There was no colossal silhouette among the crowd. He found no stuttering wallflowers in the perimeter of the room. Bruce Banner was MIA—again.

He really needed to put a tracking device on that guy.

With a defeated sigh, Tony trudged to a Black Widow-free bar and ordered the stiffest drink this side of the universe. Between Asgard’s sons of anarchy and the Invisible Hulk, he needed something to stave off the impending tension headache.

A glass slid along the countertop in his direction. Before it reached him, manicured fingers wrapped around the tall, narrow glass and plucked it from the counter.

“ _Excuse_ me.” His gaze traced up a lean arm and settled on a pair of keen, dark eyes. Her red lips were too busy knocking back his drink to respond. “That was mine.”

When the smoking clear liquid was gone, she slammed the glass on the counter. “Oh, gods,” she muttered. “I really needed that. Don’t worry, I’ll get you another one.” She held up two fingers to the amphibious bartender, who croaked in acknowledgment.

Tony scoffed. “I can pay for my own drinks.”

“Sure you can.” Two glasses skated across the smooth countertop; she stopped both in front of her. “In that case, these are both mine.” In under five seconds, both glasses were emptied.

He whistled. “Either you’re not a normal human,”—he glanced over her lithe form surreptitiously—“or you’re having a worse night than I am.”

“Both,” she clipped. Again, she waved to the bartender.

“Halloween costume parties not your thing?” he asked. When the drink skimmed across the bar, he leaned over and caught it before the woman could grab it.

She sent him a blistering look. “No.” She flipped her straight, black hair off her shoulder. “Especially not if it doubles as a bachelorette party.” Her sharp gaze shifted to a clump of assorted characters on a couch several feet away. An attractive blonde wore a tiara and a sash that flashed ‘Future Mrs. Ron Weasley’ in a garish orange script. On her left was a bored-looking redhead in a leopard catsuit. On her right was a brunette, who conversed with a man wearing a smarmy grin and a rust-colored jacket.

“Yeah, you could say I’m a natural leader,”—the man’s boasts could be heard above the din—“I could take over the Avengers if I really wanted, but they just want to stay on Terra.” He winked at the brunette. “I’m more of a ‘big picture’ kind of guy.”

“Goddamnit,” Tony muttered.

His companion quirked an eyebrow. “Friend of yours?”

“No.”

As Peter Quill continued to lay on his particular brand of charm, a blonde woman dressed like a furry duck hobbled by, her deep pockets jingling. His Iron Man suit floated in her path and landed in front of her.

“Trick or treat,” Loki crooned. “I’m the trick. You’re the treat.”

Her clear, grey eyes grew wide. “I’m a niffler!” she replied.

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned.

“You know him?” the woman asked.

“Nope.” He raised the glass to take a sip.

She hummed. “Shame.” The woman turned, stepping so close that he could smell her warm bergamot perfume. Slowly, she pulled the glass from his lips. A coy smile formed on her lips. “I would have liked to meet Iron Man.”

He leaned closer, the tips of their noses nearly touching. “Really?”

“Hmmm.” With a mischievous glint in her eye, she pressed the glass on her fire-engine red lips and took a slow drink. “If you happen to see him again, let him know Pansy Parkinson would love to chat.” Then, with his glass in hand, she turned to join her party.

Tony adjusted the knot of his black tie, which felt tighter than when he put it on earlier this evening. The woman—Pansy—didn’t spare a glance back, but from the sashay of her hips, she knew that he was watching her walk away.

He looked around the ballroom. Wanda and Vision were still busy with each other on the dance floor; Natasha was gone, presumably off looking for Bruce. Thor was now taking selfies with his adoring fans.

Pansy lounged on the couch with her girlfriends. Peter and Loki were there as well—the two most troublesome Avengers.

A responsible leader would go over there to make sure they didn’t cause any embarrassment. With a sly grin, he ordered two more drinks from the bartender and joined Pansy’s group.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos/Comments are appreciated!


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